Ruins
by RomansRoad
Summary: Zuko arrives at the Eastern Air Temple while searching for the Avatar. Set about a month after he is banished from the Fire Nation. One-shot


He had learned of the destruction of the Air Nomads in his history class from a young age. It was necessary. It was crucial to the advancement of the Fire Nation. It would help the Fire Nation share their greatness with the world.

Looking around at the fire-scorched walls, the torn and charred curtains still hanging from their bars, and feeling the eeriness of the empty corridors, Zuko didn't believe his teachers for a moment.

"It is a grievous thing, is it not, my nephew?" Iroh's deep voice sounded from behind Zuko. "To destroy an entire race…is not the way things should have been handled."

"The entire race wasn't destroyed. The Avatar is still out there somewhere," Zuko snapped back, but he was having a hard time not agreeing with his uncle's words. Yes, supposedly the vanquishing of the Air Nomads by Fire Lord Sozin had contributed to peace, but…this didn't feel right.

Zuko had put two and two together when they had first landed in the Earth Kingdom for supplies for their ship, and the inhabitants of the land had withdrawn into their homes, windows tightly shut and doors bolted twice. Fire Nation people weren't welcome. The men who had loaded their ship were curt, and didn't look anyone in the eye if they didn't have to. But Zuko had heard the mutterings as he and his crew prepared to leave.

Iroh coughed slightly, startling Zuko from his musings. "Pardon me. I believe the dust has irritated these old lungs."

Crouching down, Zuko swept a hand through the dust. "It's thick…too thick for an Airbender to still dwell here. It would have been piled in drifts if he were Airbending in this building."

"He could be in one of the surrounding structures."

Zuko straightened and squinted at the high pinnacles of the Eastern Air Temple. The sun was setting, and he could feel his Firebending dwindling down to the likeness of hot coals still bright with energy. "We'll look now. Before he has the chance to escape. If he's even here."

Zuko didn't believe that the Avatar was anywhere near the temple, and could see in his uncle's eyes that Iroh thought much the same thing. "If we do not find him, we may at least be able to appreciate this beautiful architecture."

"I am not here to enjoy ancient ruins!" Zuko said fiercely, wincing as the burn on his face throbbed with the intensity of his statement. A month, and still, the skin wasn't healed.

Iroh saw the look of pain on his nephew's face and tried to come to his aid, but backed off as soon as Zuko snarled, "I'm _fine_."

"As you wish, Prince Zuko."

His uncle's use of his formal title pained Zuko more than his scar, but setting his jaw, he turned and walked down one of the expansive hallways.

His crew had been left down at the base of the temple, so it was Zuko and Iroh wandering the halls alone. Everywhere, the damage was evident. Though the stone walls had been left largely untouched, immune to the flames that had engulfed them, the wooden parts of the temple were mostly burned away or entirely gone.

Iroh suddenly stopped and made a noise low in his throat. Zuko was at his side in an instant. "What is it?"

"Look."

Zuko glanced down to where Iroh gestured. A faded painting, at a child's height, was on the wall. Curious, Zuko knelt down to study the picture.

It was clearly done by a child's inexperienced hand. Despite this fact, the painting was quite distinguishable. It showed a group of young Airbenders surrounding one of the older members of the temple, all of them looking very at peace and calm. Sky bison were visible behind them, and what appeared to be some sort of small, winged creature sat near the children. Written in a shaky script beneath the entire picture was the word "Breathe".

Zuko glanced up at his uncle. Iroh was smiling as he observed the painting. "There was an artist in their midst. I wonder when this was made."

For once, Zuko didn't have the urge to yell that that wasn't his purpose in being here.

They explored as much of the temple as they could before exhaustion swept over them both.

"I think," Iroh said slowly after subduing a large yawn, "that we will be safe spending the night here."

Zuko nodded and hefted his bedroll from his shoulder, spreading it out on the stone floor. He lay down in the darkness and let his thoughts wash over him.

One word came to mind. Breathe.

He found it ironic that breathing was what Iroh had been trying to teach him over the weeks spent at sea. Zuko's Firebending would improve by leaps and bounds if he learned to breathe, Iroh said.

Firebending. A gift, supposedly.

As his scar gave another twinge, Zuko found it hard to believe that it could be counted as a gift.

Iroh coughed again beside him, before rolling to the side and giving into sleep.

The dust from the ruins was incredible. So much destruction. Zuko had seen the Western and Southern Air Temples, but so far, the Eastern was easily the worst. It seemed unlikely that anyone could live here for an extended period of time. Even more unlikely that the place could be rebuilt.

Ruins. Zuko could identify with the feeling. His face was a good example. He laid his fingertips gingerly against the tender skin, and fought against the wave of nausea that arose as he thought of the incident that had granted him the scar.

Another good example was his life. Banished at age thirteen to a life of hunting the Avatar, Zuko knew it was his only chance to regain his honor. He would find the Avatar. (So what if three generations of Fire Lords had failed to find him?) He had to. Only then could things return to normal.

Zuko almost laughed out loud. Normal. Normal wasn't a possibility anymore. Not after having his father burn him for speaking out of turn. Not after being dispelled from his home country. If there was one certainty in his life, it was that normal would never return.

Then why was he still hunting the Avatar?

Zuko smiled harshly to himself, ignoring the pain shooting from below his eye. Because it was all he could do right now. There was no Plan B. No home away from home. No mother to tell him that everything would work out in the end.

He had a crew who served him because they were paid to. They didn't know the extent of why they were sent on this pointless journey. He had a ship that would sail as faithfully as it could, because that was what it did. He had an uncle who would go with him to the end of the earth and back again, would offer him advice even when he didn't want it, would take every scathing remark Zuko made as the prince fought back the pain of his own life. Because Iroh loved him.

Zuko heaved a mighty sigh and knew it would be another long night. They had become frequent since his banishment.

He thought back to the painting that they had stumbled upon during their walk through the Air Temple.

Zuko lay flat on his back, hands folded across his stomach, feet together and pointed up at the high ceiling, and let his eyes slip shut.

He lay amongst the ruins. He breathed.


End file.
